


Karkat: Dead. Dreambubbles of yesterday morning.

by orphan_account



Series: Welcome Home [2]
Category: Homestuck, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: !!!, Bedroom Sex, Fluff and Angst, Illustrations, M/M, Sexy Times, Typical Night Vale Weirdness, now with
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 04:25:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4125424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat whispers into Dave when he wakes up hard between the thighs and naked, severely naked. Oh and there is sunshine on the bed that seems to lap and lick and fuck their faces. Maybe that's just because of Dave. Dave Dave Dave.</p><p>You are naked in Dave’s bed. That is a thing, a thing that has happened. Delicious abrupt, Dave’s voice gathers a dangerous edge: 'must have liked my cuddles Vantas, and must have felt pretty-'</p><p> <b>Safe.</b></p><p>Yeah, because you are the sick fuck who cannot fall asleep alone: <em>The loser is you Karkat.</em></p><p>
  <b>Now with illustrations, 22/10/2015.</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Karkat: Dead. Dreambubbles of yesterday morning.

**Author's Note:**

> ##  I wake up, I'm Yours: Karkat Vantas & Dave Strider. 
> 
> Recorded by Some Unnamed Time Travellers hanging out in the most inappropriate of bedrooms. Warning: fluffy sexy times, then (oh wow surprise) whiplash. Can be read as a standalone.

 

* * *

**Karkat Vantas:** Wake up with Dave Strider **. Dave Strider:** Wake up with Karkat Vantas. **Gawking Writer:** Freak the fuck out.

**X**

**X**

**X**

 

shuppadup 

in slowed down syllables and an aching bite to the shoulder is the first thing Karkat whispers into Dave, when he wakes up hard between the thighs and naked, severely naked. Oh, and there's sunshine on the bed that seems to lap and lick and fuck their faces. Maybe that's just because of Dave. Dave Dave Dave.

You are naked in Dave’s bed.

That is a thing, a thing that has happened.

would you like food with your porn sir, or just a rockhellastatic morning blowjob?

It takes a bit of time to blink through that sentence, and by that time Dave is far more awake: talking, wriggling his pasty butt along the edge of your bulge. In all - any, _thi_ s - situations: attack is the best course of action, OH HEY STRIDER, how did you sleep? AWAKE I hope, and HORRIBLE, because you certainty had a whole mountain of piles with those blankets, yes a whole glacier of piles. Did you have some good dreams in there I hope? Good dreams, while I was pushed out on the side all curled up and fucking COLD.

ah, but you slept through didn’t you Vantas? first time I’ve seen you do that, and we were on that meteor a whole three years. whenever I logged on you were up smacking out some verbal shit or complaining about how tired you were. _Delicious abrupt,_ Dave’s voice gathers a dangerous edge,  must have liked my cuddles Vantas, and must have felt pretty-

**Safe.**

Yeah because you are the sick fuck who cannot fall asleep alone: _the loser is you Karkat._ Not that he's right

well it isn't exactly the first time, again: _the loser is you Karkat._ Let's not remind him. Let's just lick the edge of his mouth and kiss all the way up his chest and - ALL THE TIME - you want him all the time. In the same bed as you all the time, every time, all time, forever evereverever-

hey Dave breathes.

Did he see your face become red? blood? stone? person? - _yeah, never -_ because he shuffled, twisted, and somehow ended up with a bare face and chapped lips in your breathing. While he's breathing. He's _breathing on you_. Right. Your face. Your space. His squishy thighs and naked ass mashing close. . .

Shut up and breathe into his neck! Karkat yells (at himself) in his head, holding tight to his best friend, his lover, his…

 

**< 3 <3 X.**

* * *

Mornings are good perfect. 

Karkat is wrapped around your stomach. Karkat is nuzzling into your chest, neck and head. Yours Dave! Yours! _*WIN!*_

He is so warm. Of course he's warm. When you wake up. When Karkat nudges and moans in his sleep. When he's in your bed. When he stays. He stays, he stayed this time. Karkat is a sniffling hotwater bottle beast and he groans sometimes in a way that comes out in bitching non-sentences and something that really sounds like sex, or maybe a spell.  
  
He smells dead tired. Like he's never been able to sleep, and then aftershot: it's dripping gooey brownies, then mugs of stolen wine, then dumb films at 4 or 3 in the morning and pizza.

Yeah you love him like pizza, and Karkat is entirely oblivious.

Wriggling in the morning; in your slightly blue laptop lit room; in Karkats arms. He is here. He is warm, and you have never had anything like him before. Because _'before'_ : love is sex

in a relationship that hits you.

You were slammed square between the eyes and the world laughed

at you crying (at least, when you're selfish, you forget the friends and focus on the painful bloody bits and pretend that all that darkness in your past gives you the lifebones of a superhero.) You were thirteen when you flipped apart your life to try and define consciousness, (yeah, you say because it's easier to sound pretentious than admit that you were just trying to stay alive.)

You are a lot older now, at least, you feel it.

Then Karkat breathes.

Like a badass bro, you dream him rapping: he's dressed in gold. He vents about the state of the world, the people who keep giving in, the reasons under cover. Yup, dream Dave is now wearing a g-string and a lip piercing while he ogles dream-rapper Karkat. You are totally never leaving the safety of the blankets and your own head again. Oh well, least you are sexy enough to be queen of the world when he raps his way to being the motherfucking president.

He's sort of jabbing you awake now, and there's light, and a ceiling, and you've known this idiot for three fucking years and so much about your life has changed. So much of the little kid you kept trying to pummel or erase out of you, by pushing the hurt inside like a bullet or the way some fucking stranger breaks you, keeps growing and laughing and giggling while he's around. Karkat, well Karkat hasn't changed, at least, he's always changing and there's nothing you can do about it, but. He's always there, _and him,_ no matter what.

Now you've had to leave the little spoon position, half your body is a halo of warmth and the other half aches.

Well, in all seriousness, your entire body is composed of aches: is aching for him. Yup, like some stalkerish puppet pal, and if that isn't a way to yoyo balls and turn someone's dick to ash, then you do not know a thing about sex ed. Well, okay you know a bit about human sex ed...anyway, KARKAT: you want to touch your fingers through his horns; to tell him how he: **is fucking beautiful.**

DAVE.. He murmurs soft and achy and slow and with a growl in his voice like ashfucked cigarettes. And fuck. No. _You flinch._ Even as the sleep sticks to his eyes; his eyelashes all clumped up; his mouth and his lids open, like he's calling for light, _you flinch_ , without any goddamn reason. He freezes, his mouth hung right open and red. 

You fumble and don't explain: _to hear someone say it and mean it;_ _say it, like YOU meant something to them; say it, like they_ \- you try to put your sunglasses on before he kisses you, worried; then you can kiss him back, and pull away without saying:

**'i love you.'**

'i love you.'

'i love you.'

'i love you.'

'i love you.'

'i love you.'

Yup, he would definitely laugh at you. His entire body is already preparing an onslaught of swearing, memes, venting and shocked stares. fuck Karkat, I can't fuck you you say instead, because you are stupid. That it is entirely is a lie and entirely not what you meant is exactly not the problem, and fuck it's going to-

Annnd yup, then he looks at you like he's going to melt.

Yup.

That was exactly what you had in mind, making your (want-him-to-be) boyfriend feel small and unwanted, rather than simply, unbelievably precious. ugdhskdljasljd-  Karkat stares at you. He also bites his lip, and makes a blushing hand gesture that means: he's pulling away, he's sorry, he didn't mean to seem like he was pressuring you _,_ _pressuring you,_ Jegus; he is not the one pressuring you.

You grab his hand as he goes to pull away. (No, no, no.)

He shakes his head, slow and smiling, reaching out to kiss gently the back of your hands.

To say: it's okay (It's OKAY Dave. You mess, you dweeb, you kisser of siblings. _troll faces smileys_. )

He's just there, sitting there, like he's thinking, (How much I fucking LOVE-) **you** you finish his sentence before he can look like he wanted to swallow the words back...

**Oh,**

_Yes,_ you could fuck him this morning, if he wanted that, if he wanted You.

 _Yes,_ you could tell him all the things that made you weird inside and proved you were a bad person, all the ones he didn't know already.

 _Yes,_ you could fuck him this morning, you haven't, but you want to, and he's your friend and he's so quiet, at least his words are now that he's said something so damn LOUD. Everything else is thrumming, and his heart is so close to your chest.

_You feel so young._

**Oh.**

But you aren't that young, even if some of your memories are a little messed up: _let him kiss you senseless; fuck you senseless; be fucked senseless; be aware and electric throughout all of it, make each other longlove friendship bracelets for EVEREVEREVER. Right._

**Oh.**

_he keeps kissing your neck; he's going to suck out bruises. he keeps holding your hand; it's keeping him grounded. he keeps straddling your thigh, pressing his bulge against where skimpy boxer shorts used to be..._ And your bare chest. And your bare throat. And your bare heart. And your bare, messy, eyes, too sensitive for the sunlight.

**Oh.**

 

**< 3 X. X.**

* * *

Your name is Karkat, and you are rolling over and over and kissing every part of your boy-

dave...

friend...

mate-thing...when you hear the sirens going off.

It is so weird, like you couldn't hear them before; like you did, but ignored or forget; like you've already been here...

 

They seem to be surrounding you now.

They seem to be getting closer.

They seem almost fixated, right on you, this very spot you are - **Wait,**

you weren't sitting; you aren't sitting; you were in bed with Dave...

**You aren't in bed with Dave.**

 

You are lying on the ground,

            covered in blood.       It's so red: cherry red, like the fizzy drink.        You are starting to black out now.

 

 **Wait what,** has this happened before? **WAIT, WHAT!  
**

 

There are people surrounding you. Those people aren't Dave. You aren't in bed with Dave.

You want to be in bed with Dave, not here, _NOT DYING!_

Then Carlos is there. Then Cecil. Then someone is crying; someone's face is drawn, tight with worry; someone is moving his hands about like he can change anything.

Then Carlos pretends to smile. Someone presses their fingers into your palms and the top of your hands; someone squeezes every few seconds to remind you: we are here together, to face _all of this_ together.

 

**Somewhere outside there are sirens going off.**

 

Then Dave breaks.

 

**You broke Dave.**

 

Old Woman Josie has one arm around Cecil, one bony wrist grabbing Dave's. He is rigid and holding himself taut, don't shake, because he's crying, that was always going to happen, but if he collapses: then he'll have to believe this is real. This isn't real. Karkat can't die. Karkat cant-

 

You _are,_ Karkat.

You are about to die, this-

 

_You_

_already_

_have._

 

Dave throws his arms around you,

blood soaking through his teeshirt.

Josie holds him tighter,while keeping her eyes on you, a smile, a lie, something sympathetic?

No, the calm sheen across her face is only for the _other_ teenager.

She's holding tighter to her baseball bat,

as well as Cecil,

as well as Dave,

as well as the knuckles stretched out on her fist: bone white.

She gestures

at one of the Ericka’s;

the angels sweep

in an extended circle

around you now.

Vaguely, it occurs to you that the others also need protection,

if you have been attacked; you _were_ attacked; the world is moving so slow.

 

You let out a gulp.

You kiss his head, _it isn't real._

You hug him tightly and hold, _unused to how old and mature his body is pretending to be._

 **It isn't real,** but he still struggles in your arms, and then, tries to push his shades back up.

 

**You let out a gulp,**

          at least when you fall,

                                    when you die,

                                               those you love will be there

                                                                               to push, to pull, to fight, to cry, to love,

                                                                     to-

                                                     **you fall down.**

 

**X. X. X.**

* * *

 


End file.
